Lyra's footsteps echoed against the cobblestone paths of the campus. Returning after a week away felt… strange. Familiar, yet foreign. She had spent days with her aunt and cousins, laughing, shopping, even baking cookies—normal, mundane things that felt almost luxurious compared to the shadowed halls of her university. And now she was back, back to a world she barely understood, where danger and desire seemed to live in the corners.
She clutched her notebook tighter, letting the leather strap bite gently into her palm. Letters had been her way of processing Kael, but now, face-to-face moments felt inevitable.
Across the courtyard, a shadow shifted. Cassian, leaning casually against a pillar, gave her a nod that was half-greeting, half-assessment. Riven's calculating eyes followed her every step. Serene stayed near the library steps, watching, neutral, poised—the mediator who always seemed to know too much.
Lyra's stomach twisted. Kael wasn't there yet. Good. She needed to steady herself.
Kael's POV — distant, controlled, seething beneath the surface
He had known she would return. He'd felt it days ago, a subtle pull like a magnet activating, warning him that the human who had unsettled centuries was coming back. The news of her departure had left him… off balance, an unfamiliar ache in his chest he hated to acknowledge.
And now, watching her from the shadows, he realized how much he had missed her presence—not her laughter, not her words—but her energy. The way she didn't belong in his world, yet had already touched it.
Lyra finally spotted him. His coat hung loose over one shoulder; the night had fallen into soft blue hues. He didn't move toward her. He rarely did. His eyes, dark and unreadable, flicked briefly in her direction, then away.
He's avoiding me.
Her chest ached. Not from fear. Not exactly. Something else, sharp and electric. Curiosity? Irritation? She wasn't sure.
She squared her shoulders and walked toward him.
"Kael." Her voice was soft but deliberate.
He finally looked up, meeting her gaze. His pupils contracted slightly, his jaw tense. The wind brushed past them, carrying the scent of wet earth and distant fire from the student bonfire earlier.
"You're back," he said finally, voice low.
"I am," she replied. "I… had a week at home. Normal things."
Kael's eyes darkened, almost imperceptibly. "Normal?" he asked, a note of something sharp under his calm. "I suppose… some humans can call anything normal."
Lyra smiled faintly. "You have no idea what normal is," she teased lightly, letting a little warmth in.
He didn't smile back. Not fully. But he stepped slightly closer, careful, measured—danger and restraint in perfect balance.
"Are you all right?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," she said, though the word felt small and fragile. "And you? Did anything happen while I was away?"
Kael's jaw flexed. "Nothing you need to know." His hand twitched almost imperceptibly. A muscle, a warning. Control or protection. Always that choice.
The moment stretched. Lyra's heartbeat filled the space between them. Without thinking, she took a step closer, closing some of the distance he left.
"You don't have to do this alone," she said softly.
His dark gaze met hers fully now. There was a flicker—almost a sigh of surrender in it. He moved a fraction closer.
And then, as if fate itself had a sense of timing, Serene's voice rang out from the library steps. "Kael! Cassian! Riven! Are you coming?"
Kael's focus snapped instantly. The moment was broken, the almost-kiss evaporating into the night air.
Lyra exhaled slowly, letting the tension roll out of her. Her pulse still raced, her fingers tingling from proximity. Kael's posture remained taut, like a coiled predator forced to pause.
"Go," he said softly, almost reluctantly. "Before… before this becomes dangerous."
She nodded. "I understand."
Later, in the shadowed courtyard, Madame Selvara appeared briefly, silent, watching. Her eyes flicked to Kael, then to Lyra. No words were exchanged, but Lyra felt the weight of that gaze, a mixture of caution and quiet approval.
She's aware of me now too, Lyra thought. And I don't even know the half of it.
As the last students filtered past, leaving them in a rare bubble of quiet, Kael finally exhaled, a sound she had never heard before—soft, restrained, almost human.
"You shouldn't provoke the world I live in," he said, voice low, almost a whisper.
Lyra stepped closer anyway. "I don't want to be protected. I want to understand."
The tension crackled between them again. Dangerous, unspoken, unresolved.
And for the first time, Kael felt a centuries-old instinct waver, torn between control and something far more human.